


Symmetry

by kindclaws



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: AU, F/M, M/M, Thieves Guild, otherwise known as the death of a friendship, well it could be unrequited Gallus/Mercer if you really want
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-12
Updated: 2014-04-12
Packaged: 2018-01-19 01:17:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1449919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kindclaws/pseuds/kindclaws
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Karliah is the one brutally murdered all those years ago in Snow Veil Sanctum, and Gallus is the one left grasping at shadows -</p><p>(and watching over his shoulder for the scowling lad he taught the ropes of thievery.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Symmetry

**Author's Note:**

> I finished and edited this while feverish. In-her-right-mind-lemmaline takes no blame for errors.

He should have seen the signs. They were there, they were there right in front of his blind eyes and he saw nothing. It was Karliah who pointed them out to him, and even then he had a hard time believing her. But Karliah had never lied to him before, and she wouldn't, not about something as serious as this.

"Maybe you should speak to him," she had said, and Gallus had agreed, never once imaging the consequences of such a thing. He had told Mercer it was a Nightingale trip, just the three of them like always. The interest that had glowed in his gray-green eyes had been enough for Gallus - _see Karliah? Mercer's still one of us. Mercer hasn't drifted away, he wouldn't_ \- but they'd gone on just the same, leaving the Guild in the care of young Delvin Mallory.

It had been summer. They took their time. _This was supposed to be a sort of vacation_ , Karliah had said. _Less work, more play_. He had shared a tent with her, Mercer brought his own. At night they tried to keep quiet but if Gallus had known Mercer lay awake across the campfire cursing them with every one of Karliah's soft giggles he would have...

He would have....

But he didn't, and Mercer's wry smile made several appearances in the daylight, and he had thought everything was okay. They were three. Three Nightingales. Three thieves. Three friends. They had always watched each other's backs, and Gallus turned his on Mercer without hesitation. Mercer would never hurt them, even though he was yelling and cursing and denying every gentle accusation Gallus tried to question him about.

And then Karliah had made this sound, this kind of gasp, right as a soft _squick_ caught his attention, and he had turned only to see his lover - _beautiful, brave Karliah_ \- staring blankly ahead with her lips in an open, horrified 'o', and then the sound of metal against flesh had hit him again as she slid off the blade of the dagger Mercer had plunged between her ribs and crumpled on the ground.

"Mercer!" Gallus had screamed. "Karliah, no! Karliah!"

He had gathered her into his arms, frantic hands trying to hold her close as scarlet welled up underneath his fingers, and he had screamed his anguish out.

"I was your best friend!" Mercer had yelled in a voice too broken to suit the murdering scum he was. "Me! I had your back, and you had mine until that damned _whore_ took all your attention! We had gold and riches and each other, but you were never happy with your best fucking friend. I spent years trying to impress you but I was never as good as _precious Karliah_. I'll show you, you blind idiot. I'll show you how good a thief I can be."

"Damn you to Oblivion, Mercer," Gallus had ground out, and his former best friend had fled, leaving him to embrace a corpse and weep over a fractured trinity.

All along he had thought they were three, only to realize too late that Mercer had only ever seen two and one. The lad he had taught how to pickpocket was gone.

 

* * *

 

25 years. Gallus was dying - old age, weakening strength, a resolve that would leave him with nothing but the bottle for company on hopeless nights - and he knew he could delay no longer.

His return to Skyrim had been quiet. Always keeping his head down. Few words in shadowy bars. A grinning Argonian in Solitude, a bag of coin at a secluded bee farm. Karliah would have been proud - she always was fond of elaborate plans and mind games to lead her targets into false trails. He wondered what Mercer thought, wondered if he'd come to finish the job started 25 years ago.

Wondering had never done him any good, so instead Gallus strung traps in Snow Veil Sanctum and retreated to the inner chamber where it had all gone up in smoke.

And he waited for a chance to avenge what was stolen so long ago.

And one day, his patience was rewarded.

 

* * *

 

A brief confrontation between three _(no - two and one)_ , a shimmering key grasped in a defiant fist, a glowing red blade in Gallus's stomach.

"You were a fool to come back!"

Gallus still had air in his lungs, enough to force out Mercer's name one last time. Despite himself and the twenty five years of bitter sorrow he could not stop the warning from slipping past his lips, _for old time's sake_. But the Breton man remained where he stood, sneering down at his kneeling elder, and Gallus could say no more as the Nord man Mercer had brought with him reached forward and slit Mercer's throat.

Another generation, another betrayal. Mercer and Gallus' bodies hit the floor at approximately the same time.

Gallus had to begrudge Nocturnal her symmetry: Always three nightingales, always the threat of death on one's lips. His cycle of revenge was complete, his vengeance won, but like the heavy stone of a wheat mill it continued on regardless of the grains it left crushed behind. One circle finished, another started, remaining ever more unbroken. He'd have laughed if he could. The silent Nord man pocketed the key and disappeared.

Someone else's part in the story begun.

Gallus Desidenius died with his eyes staring unseeingly at the stone ceiling above him, in very spot Karliah had bled out in his arms. Another moment and his soul was already gone, soaring to Falkreath at Nocturnal's call. Someone was waiting to greet him there, and he would not disappoint.

And silhouetted against the Twilight Sepulcher, a figure he had ached for, agonized over, for twenty five years.

" _Gallus_ ," she breathed, her hand extended out to him.

He took it.

**Author's Note:**

> Well. 
> 
> I just really like Mercer Frey, okay? And I refuse to believe he was motivated purely by greed. I've been trying to figure him out for a while now - he's just so interesting. I wish I didn't kill him so quickly in my main playthrough. I wanted the Nightingale armour...
> 
> The next chapter of The Ones We Die For should be up soon. I have it half-written. The update delay is caused by a combination of: academic responsibilities, fainting at a school function and accidentally postponing the academic responsibilities, and writer's block. Give me another day or two to screw my head on right.
> 
> Might make this one-shot longer later.


End file.
